The Devil In Mr. Mortensen

Posted: August 2002
Author: Alex and Robin
Subject: Het/Dark/Angst/BDSM
Characters: Viggo Mortensen/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Alex and I do not own Viggo, although it's fair enough to say we wish we could at least play with him for a while... We'd do anything that man wanted us to!
Summary: Sometimes I go to places no one should see. This had been one of those times.
Author's Note: This is a joint fic, written like the Djinni and kitty fics... Alex is Viggo and I am Chloe, as if you couldn't tell... ;) Enjoy!

****

Day One

~Chloe~

I let myself into the tiny apartment Viggo had rented for his week of filming on The Prophecy. Dropping my small bag on the floor by the door, I ambled my way into the bedroom and fell into the sheets, inhaling deeply. They smelled like Viggo, musky and slightly salty. I had taken a picture of him in bed before he left, his shoulder-length brunette hair and beard dark against the white sheets of the bed. He had been so beautiful, so peaceful, delicate eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks, bare chest exposed to the morning sunlight. I knew why they had chosen him to play Lucifer. He looked like sin.

I hopped out of bed and slid into my pajamas, which I rarely wore, thanks to Viggo. The tiny black thong and tank top didn't cover much, and it would drive him to the point of insanity to not be able to see it all. I wanted to drive him to the point of insanity tonight. I needed him.

I let my feet pad through the hallway towards the studio. Viggo always had a studio, no matter how long he was staying in a place. He often used it to get into character, as a matter of fact. He'd created some beautiful pieces based on the psyches of parts he'd played. I wanted to see what he'd conjured up for Lucifer.

I didn't expect what I saw when I opened the door. I'd always known Viggo had a streak of darkness in him, but this was more intense than anything I'd ever imagined. A gigantic canvas was suspended on the far wall, so thin you could roll it up, like he was planning to frame it. The picture was done entirely in red and black, various shades of each... And it cried out of pain, anguish, death, destruction, and fear. I let out a tiny gasp against my will. Was this how Viggo felt about being Lucifer? Like it was the darkest part of him, one he couldn't control? Or was it how he thought Lucifer felt about himself, severed from heaven and unable to find true satisfaction?

I stretched my hand out to touch the canvas when a cold voice echoed through the room from behind me. "Don't touch it."

I turned with a start and almost fell over, hitting a paintbrush with my foot that clattered across the floor until it hit the wall. Viggo was standing in the doorway. He wasn't looking at me, in fact, it was more like he had simply appeared where he stood, rather than moved there of his own volition. He was leaning against the doorframe, head down, dressed only in the black pants of his costume. His feet were bare, his hair perfect, and his chest rose and fell gently with his breathing. I bit my lip unconsciously. He was gorgeous. But the way he'd spoken to me... That wasn't Viggo. Viggo was sweet and kind, safe and protective, loving and soft. The voice had been almost baleful, almost malicious. I started towards him when he spoke again.

"Don't move." He raised his eyes as he came to stand in front of me, cupping my breasts in his lush artist's hands. I felt my nipples harden to the point of pain almost immediately. Just being near him was consuming. I wanted to reach up and grab his wrists, kiss his lips, vault into his arms. But I knew Viggo, and I knew this state. He wasn't himself, he was someone else. He was his character.

"Mine," he murmured, almost making the word a growl. His thumbs stroked my nipples through the thin black fabric, and his eyes were riveted to the way they pushed against the shirt, making me vulnerable and exposed. "Mine," he said again, and this time he DID growl. He stared into my eyes, and I felt a shiver run up my spine.

Right now, Viggo was Lucifer.

~Viggo~

Chloe... I smelled her sex before I even went into the studio. I might have known that's where she'd go. She knew me too fucking well. Right now she deserved a hug and a kiss, but I wasn't the one to give them to her.

"Mine," I growled at her as I rubbed her nipples through the black shirt she wore. I could see them, darker than the black, felt them harden despite that tiny glimmer of fear I saw in her eyes. "Mine," I felt my growl, like an animal, a demon.

And I wanted what was mine!

I ripped the shirt from her body, exposing her breasts. They were heavy and ripe. I grabbed them, squeezing them, watching her eyes. I saw that fear, but I saw her lust. She wanted me, no matter who I was, Viggo or this fallen angel I'd become. She didn't care. She never did. That's why I loved her so much. I pushed her back against the studio wall and grabbed her wrists in one of my hands, forcing them over her head and leaning down to taste her nipples. I sucked one hard, hard enough to hurt her, but she didn't make a sound. I bit and tugged at the nipple before switching to the other one. I bit her soft white skin, the thought flitting through my mind to taste her blood. But I didn't. Not yet.

"Viggo," she whimpered as her waist length dark hair cascaded down over her face. I knew if I tilted her head up, I'd see how badly she wanted me to fuck her. She wanted Viggo but she wanted to know what it was like to fuck this Viggo. So I obliged her. I pulled back just enough to free my cock. Then I pushed her against the wall. I ripped the black thong she wore off. I didn't even bother to see if she was ready. I kicked her legs apart and found her cunt and rammed my cock all the way inside her.

"Viggo!" She screamed my name as I banged her against the wall, ramming my cock all the way into her again and again. She was mine, Mine, MINE! I bit her shoulder hard, tasting the coppery blood in my mouth. Her nails dug into my naked back. I felt her body tighten around me. She bit her own lip to keep from crying out.

"YOU ARE MY WHORE!" I screamed at her as I filled her cunt with my come, licking the blood from her shoulder and forcing her back against the wall so tight she could barely breathe.

"All mine." I whispered to her as I let her go. She sagged to the floor and looked up at me. She smiled.

~Chloe~

I remained noiseless as Viggo took me. It was so forceful, so powerful, and yet, on the other hand, there was nothing forced about it. When he sucked my breasts so hard it hurt I simply arched into his touch, and when he kicked my legs apart I loosened my knees to make it easier for him. I couldn't refrain from crying out his name as he parted my slick lips with his head, driving into me almost desperately. My legs were held tightly against his thighs, and I dug my nails into his back as he bit my shoulder hard enough to draw blood. I bloodied my own lip as he screamed, filling me with warmth.

When he said I was his whore, I gasped, sliding down his body and spasming in aftershock. I briefly covered my face with my hands, embarrassed at being called that name. I had always been a fairly innocent person, and Viggo really was as well. But when he was in character… I shivered involuntarily and smiled sweetly up at him. He grinned back ferally, leaning down to lap pooling blood out of my shoulder wound. "All mine," he murmured. He looked at the canvas on the wall behind me.

"Shall we, Viggo?" he said ominously. "Shall we play with the little tart's blood?" When he talked to himself like that, like he was really Lucifer talking to Viggo, I pressed my back further into the wall. "Yes, I think we shall," he uttered softly, his hand reaching out to curl around the discarded paintbrush. The blood had pooled up enough to coat the brush. He had bit me hard and deep. It throbbed. He stood, studying the painting. His cock was level with my mouth, and I wanted to lick it. His downward glance indicated that he noticed. "If you're a good girl," he said, "Lucifer will give you what you want." I nodded and turned to watch him paint with my blood.

I wasn't bleeding enough for it to be dark, but he added light red, feathery lines to various parts of the horrific collage on the wall with it. By the time he'd finished, the blood had dried and the wound had clotted. He smiled. "You were good," he said softly, brushing my cheek with his. "You can have what you want now."

I knelt down before him and pulled his pants down around his knees as he leaned against the wall.

~Viggo~

The painting... oh fuck, I painted it with her blood! She was looking at me, wanting me. I could see it in her face. "You were good," I said. "You can have what you want now."

She slid down, then slid my pants down too. I was hard again. Ready. She took my cock in her soft hands and touched it like she always did. I grabbed her head and shoved my cock into her mouth.

"Suck it!" I growled at her. Her eyes implored me, but I couldn't stop myself. I just kept fucking her pretty mouth. I needed it. He needed it. I had to brace my hand against the wall as I fucked her mouth over and over. I came abruptly, surprising myself and her. "Swallow it, little whore!" She did.

Her eyes were so sad. Had I hurt her? When I went to check, my hand gripped her chin so hard I left bruises on her face. "Are you all right?" She nodded, unshed tears in her eyes.

I turned away. I saw the painting, done in her blood. Her blood! I had done that! The only thing I could think of was the urge I had to add my own blood to the canvas, to complete the painting. I found a knife I used to mix paints and sliced my palm. I grabbed the brush, the one I had painted her blood with, and wet it with my own. I went to work. I don't know how long I painted. Time blurred. And stopped...

"Viggo! Are you all right?" Chloe shook me. I was sleepy and so tired. She led me to the bed. I remember nothing else.

~Chloe~

I fought not to cry as I looked at him, the taste of him still on my lips. This wasn't my Viggo. This wasn't my sweet, kind Viggo who would let me take him slowly into my mouth after stroking him gently with my hands. This wasn't the Viggo who would move carefully into my mouth, fighting to not take complete control. This was someone different. And even though a tiny part of me liked it, I wanted my loving Viggo back.

I watched as he painted in his blood, the tears finally welling up and spilling over my cheeks. I wanted to ask him to stop, but even through my tears, I could see that he was still hard, still aroused by the bloodlust and greed. Could he stand three more days of this? Could I?

Eventually, he couldn't keep going. He fell to the floor, sitting with his head between his knees, his bleeding palm held away from his body. I crawled over to him, noticing that the wound was almost clotted, shaking him gently. "Viggo? Are you all right?" I asked softly. He didn't answer, so I stood him up, put an arm around him, and led him to bed.

His eyes were squeezed shut and he was curled up in a ball as I pulled the blankets over him. I spooned him, one of my hands reaching around to touch him. I cupped him gently, hearing his sob as I did it. I didn't stop rubbing him, and he was so hard I knew he was going to come in his pants. When he did, I started to cry again.

I wanted him to be Viggo again. I wanted him to hold me and make love to me and make me feel safe.

~End Day One~

****

Day Two

~Viggo~

When I woke the next morning, Chloe was wrapped around me. My pants were stiff; I must have come in them. The last thing I remembered was painting my blood on the canvas. I untangled myself from her, wishing she hadn't come, glad she did. Would I have found some poor script girl or boy to use if not for my Chloe? Would Walken and I have acted on what we were both feeling at rehearsals? I would never have to find out now. My savior had come: Chloe. She saved me from myself. And I knew it wasn't nearly over yet. The most intense scenes were the ones we were doing today.

Lucifer would confront Gabriel and eat his heart. We had been rehearsing this scene the last few days but it would be done today. In full costume with full props. Christopher and I had been all over each other all week and today promised to be worse, or better, depending on your point of view.

I dragged myself from the bed and showered. I dressed and left Chloe asleep.

****

I dragged myself in at midnight. I knew I'd not sleep any tonight. I almost hoped Chloe was gone, had left and gone back to LA to wait for me there. But she hadn't. There she was, sleeping on the sofa in one of my old t-shirts. It was thin and white and had ridden up over her stomach as she lay curled up on her side facing the back of the sofa. I had a perfect view of her bottom.

"Wake up," I said to her, my voice low and menacing. I shook her. She sat up and looked at me, rubbing her eyes. I could see the veil come down over them to shield me from seeing how much I was hurting her. I stripped my clothes off as I stood there beside the sofa. She watched, her eyes drawn to my already hard cock. "Take off the shirt." She wordlessly pulled it over her head and threw it to the floor. I was always amazed at the sight of her full breasts. They were made for nuzzling and suckling, but tonight I wanted to taste them, wanted to mark them.

I dropped to my knees and pushed her back against the sofa, glancing at her face before my eyes dropped to her small hard nipples. They gave her away. No matter how scared she was, her body wanted me, wanted whatever I did to her. I grinned at her and bit her tender white breasts, leaving red bite marks all over them, even breaking the skin here and there. She moaned, whether in pleasure or pain, I didn't really want to know. I just wanted to fuck her.

"Get on your knees beside the couch." I ordered in that voice that didn't quite seem to be mine.

She complied. I slid my hand down and rubbed her slit. She was wet. I rammed a finger hard into her just to hear her grunt. I didn't waste any more time, but buried myself in her cunt. God, she was always so tight this way! I fucked her hard, gripping her ass tight enough to bruise her soft skin. "Touch yourself. I want to feel you come too."

She moved her hand beneath her to rub her clit. She made little sounds as she did it and as I rammed her against the sofa over and over again. I felt like a god, or more appropriately a demon, as I thrust all the way into her and then pulled myself all the way back out, holding my cock in my hand and looking at her glistening juices just before I slammed back in again, over and over, again and again until I was screaming something, I'm not sure what, at her, coming in her, bruising her.

She slid to the floor when I pulled out and said nothing. She just sat there, looking at me with impossibly big eyes. I left her there. I went to the studio.

~Chloe~

I felt him leave in the morning. A part of me wanted to pull him back into the bed, cover his face with kisses, and just hold him until the shoot was over so he wouldn't have to go through this. But I knew I couldn't do that. He had to finish this; it would be the only way to make it completely go away.

I knew he was having mixed feelings about me. He always did at times like this. Somewhere inside, he knew it hurt me. But he also knew that he would end up hurting someone else, someone who might not like it, someone who might get him into trouble for it, if it weren't for me. It pained me to see Viggo in such a way that he would hurt me, but I knew he loved me underneath it all. Eventually, he would come back to me.

****

I fell asleep waiting for him that night. I knew he wouldn't sleep, not after the intense scenes he'd filmed today. I'd read the script while he was out; he had left it by the bed. Lucifer was just so Viggo, gorgeous and intense. A lot of Viggo was gorgeous and intense. But he was also sweet and loving. Lucifer was burying that part at the moment.

All I was wearing was one of his old t-shirts, and it had ridden up as I tossed and turned on the couch, trying to get some sleep before Viggo came home. I had briefly entertained the idea of going home when I had looked at the painting in the studio again and tended the wound on my shoulder, but knew I couldn't leave my Viggo, no matter who he was right now.

His rough voice woke me up. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, suddenly very aware of how defenseless and stripped I was. My breasts seemed heavier than normal, pressing tightly against the fabric of the white t-shirt, my nipples hardening and sticking out for his eyes to fall on. He was naked before I could blink, hard and glistening in front of me. My lips parted and I stared at him, squirming as desire pooled between my legs.

I took off the shirt when he told me to, moaning in pleasure and pain when he marked my breasts. They ached when I turned and pressed them into the couch, making tiny sounds when he put a finger inside me, and then all of him. He felt so good this way, bruising my hips with his hands as he set a fast, hard pace. I touched myself for him, coming with him as he pressed me against the couch hard enough to leave marks. My body shuddered, mostly from pleasure, but a little from fear as he screamed at me, screamed that I would bleed for him again tonight.

He left me by the couch with wide eyes. If I didn't follow him to the studio, nothing would happen to me. If I didn't follow him, nothing would happen, he would just leave me here to go back to sleep.

I got up and followed.

~Viggo~

I took the big canvas down and took it off the stretchers. I laid it flat on the floor and looked at it. It was ugly, like Lucifer. He was ugly inside. Was I that ugly? Had I become ugly? I didn't know. The canvas was smeared with blood that had dried an ugly brownish red. It had Chloe's and my blood on it. I wanted to finish it.

I looked up as Chloe came into the room. She didn't bother to dress but walked in naked. Her long hair hung down so far that she looked like Eve must have looked, naked and sinless before the fall. I knew about falling. I had fallen so far I wasn't sure I could get back.

"Did you like being fucked like a bitch?" The words came of me before I could stop them.

"Yes, Viggo, you know I'll be anything you need for me to be. I love you and any way you want me is good to me."

I moved the canvas close to my drawing table. It's portable but heavy, and I take it everywhere. It had sturdy legs. Just perfect for what I wanted.

"Lay down on the canvas with your hands close to the table. I want you to lay with your legs spread open and your hands over your head." She did. She was beautiful and so erotic. Her cunt was still wet from the fucking she'd gotten a few minutes ago. I knelt down to lick it, tasting myself. I licked her until she was whimpering. I got up and rummaged around for several things as she lay there, wanting me to make her come.

"Touch it yourself." I told her as I hunted my pallet knife and some rope. She had a finger inside herself when I glanced back over at her. I knelt down beside her and took her free hand in mine. I cut her palm as I had mine. Then I recut the slice in my own hand enough to make it bleed. She looked at me and knew what to do. She touched her bleeding hand to mine. We intertwined our fingers. I grabbed her other hand and sucked her fingers, my eyes never leaving hers. I pulled her up from the floor and we unclasped our hands. She looked at me and rubbed her bloody palm down my chest. I felt my heart lurch in my chest as our warm sticky blood covered me. I rubbed mine on her bruised and marked breast, leaving her nipples red with my blood.

I leaned down and sucked the coppery blood from her hard nipples. She moaned and put her bloody hands in my hair, pulling me closer. I felt her love, her devotion, but he wasn't finished with us quite yet. I caught her hand and licked it, actually sucking the wound. I pushed her onto the canvas on her stomach, then pulled her away to see if her bloody chest left a print. It did. I lay her back down and grabbed her wrists. I used her bleeding hand and my own to make handprints. Then I tied both her wrists to the table legs.

I spread her legs and slid my bloody hands all over her ass and cunt. I lifted her onto her knees and left her tied as I entered her. She moaned as I fucked her as hard and as deep as I could. I rubbed blood all over her back and her shoulders and into her long hair and I fucked her, harder and harder. I rubbed it all over my penis when I pulled out, oblivious to the pain that was starting in my hand.

She screamed for me to fuck her harder still. And I did. As hard as I could and then some. I felt her come once and again. And I was so close... I pulled my cock out of her with my bloody, injured hand as I felt myself come. Semen spurted out all over her and the canvas. I untied her quickly and we rubbed it in with our hands, leaving pink stains among the brown dried blood on the canvas. It was finished.

We both just lay down there on the floor beside the monstrous thing and fell into an exhausted sleep. Chloe curled into my arms and this time, I held her without hurting her.

~End Day Two~

****

Day Three

~Chloe~

I was so tired. He had been gone again when I'd awoken, sprawled on the floor next to the hideous canvas. I hated the painting. I could hardly stand to look at it. I had showered and cleaned myself off, tending to all my wounds and marks as they demanded. I tried to stay away from the studio, but it was fairly impossible.

I stared at it again, despising its ugliness, the way it made Viggo feel, the way it made ME feel. I wanted to get rid of it. I wanted it to be gone. My eyes fell on the palette knife by the table, than flickered back to the canvas. I slowly picked it up, clenching it in my fist, and then leaned, holding the edge of the canvas as I pulled the knife through it. It made a satisfying ripping noise.

I began to cut faster and more haphazardly as the moments went by, nicking myself with the knife every now and then. I didn't care. This was catharsis, and it felt so fucking good.

By the time I was finished, I was screaming, balling up pieces of canvas and throwing them across the room. "You can't have him anymore!" I wailed. "He's mine! Mine! I won't let you hurt him anymore!" I was reduced to a sobbing heap in the corner of the room, tiny wounds leaking on my hands from the knife. I sat there for what could have been hours and what could have been seconds, until I heard footsteps. Then I began to whimper.

~Viggo~

I had woken early and showered and gone to the set. We had both looked like murder victims when I woke. I was late though, so I grabbed a shower and drove myself to work. Lucifer was gone this morning. I felt mostly like me again. I hoped this last day wouldn't involve anything major. I didn't know if Chloe or I would survive another day like yesterday.

We had a few reshoots and none of the more intense stuff. I think Walken and I were both relieved about that. I was tempted to ask him if he was as affected by this film as I was, but I knew the answer. I'd seen his eyes when we did the scenes together. If we'd been alone, we'd have killed each other violently or by fucking each other to death. Instead, my poor Chloe had to live with it.

I was done at a little after noon so I decided to head back home to Chloe. I sort of expected her to be waiting at the door. She wasn't and none of the lights were on. I felt dread pull at me. I went to the bedroom, hoping to find her asleep. No Chloe. I knew where she was. I just didn't want her to be there.

She was in the corner. She was naked but I'm not sure she even knew it. She had taken a bath but her hands were covered in blood. She had small bandages on her cuts but her hands weren't bandaged. The canvas… Lucifer was all over the room, cut and torn and balled up in small balls. My poor darling. My eyes burned with tears. I had raped her and used her like an animal this time. I sunk to the floor beside her and pulled her over into my lap. I kissed her swollen eyes and kissed her lips. She finally looked at me, and for a second, I saw fear flicker in her eyes, and then it was gone. She smiled a very tiny smile and her arms went around me, not even noticing the blood on her hands.

"Mine, Viggo. You're mine."

"Yes, love, I'm yours." I lifted her and took her to the kitchen to clean her wounds and mend her heart, if I could

*****

Chloe was still very quiet. I had washed all the blood from her hands and taken all the fragments of Lucifer and thrown them out, literally. I felt so fucking terrible. She looked at me and smiled.

"It's okay now, Viggo. You're home." I knew she didn't mean here at the house but that I was back from where it is that I go. Sometimes I go to places no one should see. This had been one of those times.

I picked her up into my arms and carried her to the bedroom, amazed at what I was about to do. I have no idea where I even found the energy. I hadn't bothered to dress her so I just lay her down on the soft bed. I stood beside the bed and took off my shirt as she watched me. Her eyes said all she didn't. I stripped my jeans off and lay down beside her. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. She was so pliant I was almost scared by it.

Her breasts never failed to drive me crazy and they did this time too. I felt them pressed against my chest and I knew if I looked at them, I would see all the bruises and bite marks I had inflicted on her. I pushed her back onto the bed and looked at her breasts in the dim light. They had little red marks all over them, a few that were even small cuts. The bruises were blue already and dotted her skin all over her chest and down her belly and thighs. Her nipples were dark and bruised from being bitten and pinched so hard.

I ran my fingers lightly over her body and listened to her whimper in pain, then I began at the bruise on her cheek, kissing her injuries. I kissed her arms and legs and then moved to the worse injuries, kissing her breasts, each bruise and cut, and I knew that it hurt when I sucked her nipples into my mouth but she grabbed my head and arched her back, whimpering my name. I kissed down her belly and listened to her little panting sounds as I spread her legs, touching her sweet, already wet cunt. I knew she must be sore from all the rough sex we'd had but she welcomed my fingers and my mouth as I tasted her. I couldn't resist licking her hard little clit until I felt her shuddering around my fingers. God, I loved to make her come! It was even better than coming myself. Watching her eyes was amazing but feeling it like I did this time was just as delicious.

"Love me, Viggo." She didn't have to ask twice as I moved between her legs and lifted them and opened them wide. I looked at her. She was beautiful, soft and pink and so ready for me.

"Chloe," I whispered as I entered her, her tight heat enveloping me. I planned on being slow and gentle but she was so ready for me and her eyes urged me on. I slammed into her only a few times until I was coming. She followed me, shuddering again around me as she said my name over and over like a benediction. Maybe it was.

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Alex